We thanked her, and Caleb’s hand went to my lower back, guiding me through several rooms as we headed toward the back of the house. We passed the most stunning fireplace and furniture that resembled comfort without being too strict or stifling. Antique-looking beams ran across the ceiling.

The second I stepped outside, “My God,” fell from my lips.

There was a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree view of grapevines, spreading as far as we could see. The fog was even lower back here, rolling across certain areas, much higher in others, the clouds thick above us. There were mountains in the distance and on both sides, the rock a variety of grays and purples with lush foliage.

This was a town that whispered its beauty, its noise a quiet tick of nature.

And I was completely lost in it.

Caleb led us to the fire, where the chef had set up the spread. Rather than taking a seat, we stayed standing by the mountain edge, and he moved in behind me.

His arm rested across my chest, his face in my neck. “I thought you looked gorgeous in the Florida sun.” He kissed my skin, breathing me in. “But I’ve never seen you this beautiful.”

I closed my eyes, feeling the emotion return, and when the tears started to drip, I turned and faced him. “You’re making every one of my dreams come true.”

His lips brushed across mine. “I’m not ever going to stop.”

Caleb hired a driver to take us to several different wineries. We toured each of their facilities and had tastings to sample their collection. Some were large scale, distributing to stores and restaurants, bottles that we’d been drinking since we had started dating. Some were more intimate, family-owned establishments, and those were my favorite.

We were ending the day with the most charming one, sitting in the back of their main building, where hundreds of barrels were aging inside, our chairs placed so we could overlook the incredible scenery. The vintner’s daughter had set out several plates of snacks that paired with our glasses of pinot noir.

I was chewing a rice cracker that I’d layered with prosciutto and a creamy goat cheese, a slather of fig jam on top, when I said, “This is definitely my place.” My voice was light, the wind carrying most of the words away, but I knew he’d heard me.

His fingers curled around my thigh. “I know. I can see it on your face.”

I couldn’t pull my eyes away from the view. A vineyard was a site that certainly wouldn’t entertain everyone. Caleb craved the ocean, Emily needed high-rises, Rebecca preferred the backwoods of Maine—where she was from—and Fiona enjoyed the beach. But I found something so special about the quietness here, the never-ending hope that gained steam between each hill.